One Drunken Night
by Peasant Girl
Summary: Going to a bar she'd never noticed before, Miaka runs into GENRO and they have quite the reunion... Other characters will be coming up in later chapters. Please R&R even though I haven't updated xD I'm actually working on that!
1. A Pretty New Face

**A/N: this chapter is dedicated to my bestest friend ever--kittywhiskers05. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! I dunno what I exactly did... Sorry if I went too far on the joking... (btw i DID go and died in a ditch. happy? lol)**

**I hope you enjoy this piece. I know it's short--I was thinking about adding on more (i like my stories twice this length) but i also like to make the first chapters of my stories short and sweet ya know?**

**This story will contain pretty much every FY character in the anime/manga (well, at least the main ones lol)**

**Please review, okay? I'd really like that. Reviews are sadly what keep me going :'( I know--that's pathetic of me, but I can't help it...-goes to cry in a corner cuz she admitted that she just lost her best friend and her weakness in writing- Oh, God...lmao.**

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A Fushigi Yugi Fan Fiction

**Title: One Drunken Night**

**Chapter One:**

**A New Pretty Face**

She had never been more frustrated or depressed in her life. Okay, so maybe she had back in the Universe of the Four Gods (which was six years ago)—but by the person she had loved? Who she had fought so hard for? She had thought he had meant it when he said he could not love another woman. Ha! how gullible she had been, so desperate to believe in such a cheesy line.

The brunette was speeding on the almost empty highway, a fire burning in her eyes that had never been seen on her innocent face before. It was five minutes to midnight; she had been driving around aimlessly for an hour. Her cell phone beeped for the tenth time since then. She knew who it was –Taka. To explain or break up for good, she had no clue. But right then she knew the last thing she wanted was to talk to that man.

Now twenty-one, Miaka thought a drink would help lessen the sickening feeling deep in her stomach. Of course she wasn't known as a drinker—only on special occasions did she have some wine, and even then it was just a tad. Never before had the former Priests of Suzaku had such an urge for a devil's beverage, (yeah, maybe food, but that's a given). The thought of a warm, cozy bar seemed peaceful to her.

Miaka spent some time looking around for a bar; finally she spotted a place she'd never noticed before with a neon "_liquor_" sign hanging in the window seal. She smiled sadly at her find and pulled into the parking lot: the bar seemed to be larger than she'd predicted. Cars crammed all around; some guys were hanging out side, drinking and smoking. Miaka got out of her small Chevrolet. She was dressed in a simple skimpy red dress, hair cascading lovely half way down her back. Black high-heels made her an inch taller than her 5'10".

Puffy-eyed from recent crying, the beautiful young woman walked to the pub's door and yanked it open. The room was cool and dimly lit, soft jazz music barely being heard over slurred words and laughter. Miaka then walked over to the main counter when the bartender was chatting casually to a customer. When he turned to her, he smiled kindly and asked, "What would you like, ma'am? I haven't seen your pretty face here before, have I?"

Miaka warily smiled back at him; the man was probably in his late fifties, gray hair beginning to form on his brown hair and beard. "No, this is my first time. Ur…" She looked behind him at the different selections. "Um, I don't know. What do you recommend?"

He scratched his chin, sizing her up it seemed like; Miaka blushed under his friendly gaze, hoping he didn't see a hidden weakness that even she did not know of herself. "Well, ma'am, I think you could use a Bloody Mary—not to hard on the body but defiantly on the mind: it'll clear your head of hate."

The girl smiled. "That sounds exactly like what I need." And the bartender turned around to oblige. Once one had Miaka gotten drunk, and that had been with a possessed Tasuki. She remembered he had used the chance to try to seduce her…and the Taka had come to her rescue. 'No, no, _no!_' Miaka cursed herself, tightly shutting her teary eyes and roughly shacking her head. 'Just stop thinking about him! Tat was back when we were young—when the two of us sadly believed in Happily Ever After… HA!' Actually, she did accidentally give a bitter laugh right as the man turned back around, her drink in hand.

Raising an eyebrow, he placed her order in front of her. "Bad day, huh?" he asked sincerely. "That is usually why we get newcomers—and normally the pretty young ladies like you." Miaka blushed shyly, whispering a thank you and sipping the alcohol in a champagne glass. "Most of the men are regulars here and when ever they're not it's 'cause they are new to town—then there are the occasional drifters. Every once and a while we get a Broken Heart, but most of them stopped coming once word got around about our teasing them." This made Miaka giggle and the bartender continued. "Genro—a common customer—started it. He's quite the character you know; very handsome too. Stick around for a bit and you'll probably meet him."

A group of men slid in on the stools; one bumped into her but didn't seem to notice. The bartender held a finger up at her, telling her to wait a moment so he could greet them. But Miaka was getting uncomfortable with the man beside her crowding and absently rubbing against her while he made gestures to his friends. Picking up her glass, the girl looked around for a new seat. She spotted a lone one-seat in a corner. Thinking that was perfect, Miaka walked over to the isolated spot. She drained the glass in less than two minutes and then just sat there staring at the black—or maybe it was a dark blue…what about purple? —wall. Yep. Even just by her first drink she was beginning to feel a bit fuzzy.

Couple minutes later a young man around his late twenties walked over towards her. "Good evening, milady," he chimed. "The Old Man over there sent me to ask if you'd like another Bloody Mary since you left."

Miaka returned his toothy grin. "Yeah, that sounds great. I have the whole night—might as well waste it here, ya know?" The boy came back with another drink and Miaka asked him to stay and chat with her for a while. Her words were already slurred after her second drink—something very unusual from just that small proportion of alcohol. But when she asked for a third, he complied, swearing to himself that he wouldn't give her anymore for the night. During their conversation, Miaka figured out that the waiters name was Tom; he was twenty-eight-years-old and not married. Being drunk, these last comments made Miaka start her girl instincts to kick in: flirting. But Tome seemed to be use to it and didn't seem bothered.

"Hey, Miaka," he stated, "I gotta get back to work. And no more to drink for you, okay? It seems that you're already smashed by only three drinks; I'm guessing that you're not much of a drinker, eh? Come on, let's get you back at the counter with the Old Man." He got out of his chair and held out a hand to help the woman; but she just sat there with a pouting face making him laugh lightly. "Ah, I'm not being unfair if that's what you're thinking, Miss—it's just that I don't want you getting hurt, you know?"

"But I don't wanna go back over there," she whined. "That guy was rude."

"Huh?" Tom looked over at the empty bar counter. "I don't know whatcha mean—no one's over there right now. So come on. Or do you want to call anybody? Anyone who could come pick you up now?"

Taka was the first person she thought of. And then she remembered he was the reason she was there in the first place. "No," she whispered, tears already coursing down her cheeks. "No, sadly there isn't."

Tom gave her an apologetic look and then held out his hand once more. "All right; that's okay, don't worry. You can stay here as late as you want. Besides," he smiled sheepishly, "I like your company here." Miaka returned the smile and took his offering hand. He then led the stumbling girl over to the main counter where he gingerly set her down on a stool.

The old man walked over to them and glared at Tom. "Why the Hell does she look so bad, Boy?" he demanded. "How many bloody drinks did you give her?"

"I only gave her three!" Tom cried. "No more—I swear! You gave me the cups, remember? So how could I give her any more?" The bartender frowned, looking down at the unfocused girl. "I don't know how she got this drunk so easily, but she did…It's weird, I know. Not even a newbie at drinking could get like this."

The bartender grinned at the employee. "Are you sure you didn't slip in any drug, Tom?"

He gasped. "Of course I didn't! Who the Hell do you think I am!"

The older man laughed. "An unmarried man who is desperately looking for a woman's attention."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get back to work now. Can you call me over when Genro comes by? I've gotta return a CD of his back to him."

"No problem," he said and then he was off. The Old Man turned his attention back to Miaka who was staring into space at the dimly lit room. Even if Tom wasn't hitting on her, he wouldn't find it hard to believe: the girl was naturally beautiful in her saddened atmosphere. A hiccup escaped her swollen lips and he grinned. "So what's your name, Sweetheart?" Of course he wasn't be a flirt—for one he knew he was way to old and secondly he was happily married with two boys.

Miaka snapped out of her daze and looked at the man with distorted emerald-green eyes. "Me? I'm Miaka Yuki." Her words were slurred. "What's yours?"

"My name is William," the bartender said. "But everyone calls me the Old Man." He chuckled softly. "You can call me which everyone you prefer, though, Miss Yuki."

"Miaka," she corrected. "Call me Miaka. And I like William."

He smiled kindly and bent down under the counter, brining up a large glass. "Would you like a drink of water them, Miaka? I think it could help out some of the nasty chemicals from the alcohol and maybe sober you up a bit." The woman licked her lips and them smacked them loudly; she nodded. William then filled it up with some plain tap water. Miaka ended up chugging that in under one minute. After five more refills, she finally excused herself, saying she needed to use the "potty". William chuckled at her use of words—sometimes he found drunks quite amusing.

A moment later the pub's door swung open and a happy cry rang out: "Genro has know arrived!" Cheers and laughter came with his announcement from all around. He waved his hand in acknowledgment to people as he walked towards the counter. William wasn't lying—the man _was_ handsome (to say the least). Locks of fiery red hair twirled in every way on his head, making an oddly cool style you'd think would take a lot of gel, yet it was natural. Sparkling, beautiful amber eyes stuck out brightly from beneath the hair and a lopsided fanged smile game him an even sexier look. Around his neck he wore colorful beads and small dangling earrings on each ear. A tight black shirt showed off his masculine chest wile baggy black pants went down to the floor, covering his feet; the young man looked no older than twenty-three.

"Hey, Will." He slid into the bar stool which Miaka had occupied. "The normal please."

"No problem." The bartender turned around to fill a large glass with their strongest liquor. "Oh, and could you switch a spot, Gen? A young lady is sitting there; she just ran to the bathroom really fast."

Genro Grimaced. "Yer still lettin' them in here? I'm guessin' she's pretty far drunk, eh?" William grinned and nodded. "Damn women. They know nothin' 'bout th' art of drinkin'." He did switch a seat to his left, though, and William set his scotch inform of him. "So who's the wench this time? A run away? Broken Heart? Oh! what about a Heart Breaker! We all ways have fun with those," he laughed.

The Old Man smiled at his friend and leaned against the counter like he always did. "Actually, Genro, I don't know; she hasn't said anything about it. But I highly doubt she's a Heart Breaker—the girl is too innocent and sweet."

"Ah." Genro sipped at his drink, savoring the hard taste. "That's a first."

William looked around the dim room, trying to catch a glimpse of Tom in the shadowy figures sitting around; he remembered promising to call out for him, but eh, why waste his breath? He'd be coming up sooner or later. "So where're your friends tonight?" he asked. "Didn't they come with you?"

Genro shook his head sadly. "Naw, not t'night. Saihitei had some work at the office to catch up on and then Ryuen decided to stay back and cry over her stupid outfit that Ri accidentally shrunk in the dryer." He laughed heartily. "I ferget, but I think it was fer th' modeling show tomorrow…Ah, damn—I'm suppose to 'tag along' as well! Maybe I could make up an excuse not ta go." He grinned foolishly and took another swig, sighing loudly in contentment. "I feel bad fer Ri—the monk's a huge push over and Ryuen takes total advantage of that. But he is useful, you know, when ya need some 'meditating'." He laughed again. "He made me take it with him one time ta calm me down from what they call a tantrum."

Without either of them noticing, Miaka had exited the bathroom and was now just standing there dumbstruck, staring at the red-head, mouth gapped open. "Tasuki…" The whisper was barely audible but Genro caught on and turned towards her. Tears filled the woman's green eyes as she took towards him. "Tasuki… Is that really you, Tasuki? But it can't be…"

Genro, completely confused, looked from the girl to William and then back. "Urm, sorry, Miss, but ya've got th' wrong—" Before he could finish though Miaka had ran over and leapt up, crashing them both to the ground with the stool. "What th' Bloody Hell—" Again he was cut off when her lips suddenly came crashing down on his. Amber eyes wide, he tried to push the woman off but her persistence was greater. Ant then it seemed forgotten emotions began traveling from this strange girl to him: Love, pain, friendship, envy, laughter, war… With all these mixed emotions Genro found himself fiercely kissing her back.

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**A/N: haha, confused? As you should be. Figure out what's goin' on in the next chapter! **

**Hey, can y'all do me a huge favor out there? You see, there's this button below and it says, "SUBMIT REVIEW" I know, I know--I'm horrible for asking such a hard task it's just that I want some feedback, ya know? Thanks! Muah!**

**Peasant**

**(PS: please don't hate me, Katie!)**


	2. Too Much Water

**One Drunken Night**

**Chapter Two:**

**Too Much Water**

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He buried his hands in her hair, pushing her petit frame closer to his. Fireworks were going off as he deepened the kiss, loving the taste of her mouth on his. So afraid he was going to loose these newly founded emotions, he greedily held onto the girl with his strong arms. So what if they were lying on the bar's floor, a stool toppled over them and all the men staring at them dumbfound.

Sadly she broke the kiss, panting slightly and looking into his eyes with love and joy. "Tasuki… Tasuki, you're really here… But how? Why are you here, Tasuki?"

Again with that name? Groaning, Genro gently pushed the young woman off him and then sat up, itching his head unsurely. "Look, Miss, I dunno who yer talkin' about. My name is Genro, _not_ Tasuki." He stood up—closely followed by the drunken female—and flipped the stool upwards; he sat down in it once more. Seeing that his drink hadn't spilled over, the fiery red head took a large gulp of it. "Ya've got th' wrong guy."

"No, I don't think so." Words slurred, she made her way behind him and then scrambled onto the seat she had occupied before and swigged down the entire glass of water. As if on cue the bartender refilled it with tap. "I couldn't be mistaken. No one else I know has fangs like you!" When her warm finders touched the corner of his mouth, Genro immediately stiffened. He turned his eyes towards her, giving her a side long glance as in say, 'What the freak are you doing, lady!' But she didn't move her hand. "Can you please smile?" she whispered, tracing her fingertips around that corner. "Please? I just…just need to see it."

Genro turned his head towards her fully now. Her beautiful green eyes shined with unshed tears. Long, glossy brown hair was asker around her brightly flushed face. Sighing, the red head couldn't stand her look for some reason; it was as if he knew he'd do anything just to see this strange girl smile. So he did as asked, giving her that fanged grin of his that almost every female can't resist.

That was all it took to raise the corners of her own mouth, straight white teeth showing through. "See." Her voice was still quiet. "It is you. The hair, eyes…" To his dismay, the drunken girl used her hand to sketch the features she spoke of. "Your voice"—she absently touched his lips, making him shudder—"clothing and jewelry." She followed down his neck sloppily to tug gently on his colorful necklace and caller. All the while he stared intently at her, body tensed at her every touch. 'Who th' bloody Hell gave her permission to feel me, drunk or not!' But then again he couldn't say he _didn't_ like it…

"Ma'am, I'm sorry—buy I'm not th' guy yer lookin' for," he growled softly. Why didn't he just push her away? Why didn't he just tell her to bug off like all the other woman he constantly told? Genro wasn't sure if he liked this new sensation or hated it. "I don' have a clue on who ya are. Besides, there're millions of other guys out there."

"Guys like you?" The simple question made him blush. He was "unique" to say the least. People with his style and looks just weren't common. "I've never seen anyone close. And—be right back." The brunette ungracefully hopped off the stool—almost successfully knocking it over—and quickly started waddling towards the restrooms again. "I've gotta go _peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_" she squealed right before entering the ladies'.

Genro stared wide eyes in horror after. "What the'…" he said, turning back to William who had been standing there listening. "Is this girl okay? 'Cause I don't get it…"

The bartender chuckled lightly, swiping a washrag through a glass (some waitress had dropped off a tray of dirty ones for a cleaning). "Her name is Miaka and yes, she is perfectly fine." He finished with that glass and moved to another. "I don't understand what got into her; she wasn't going psycho till you came." Before Genro could make any sassy remarks like, "I just have that kind o' reaction with women," he continued. "The whole falling-out-or-a-chair-kiss thing I wasn't expecting. I've only seen that four times in my ten years working here—and they all had been couples." The Old Man grinned and winked at his customer. "Didn't look like you minded much about it though, Mr. I Hate All Woman. What was that about?"

The twenty-three-year old hung his head, twirling his drink that was now three-fourths gone around. "I dunno," he answered truthfully before downing the rest. "Could ya fill me back up, man?" Of course the bartender obliged, leaving Genro a couple of moments to think. What _was_ that kiss about? And the whole 'Tasuki' crap! None of it made sense…yet at the same time it did. Exactly what 'it' was, Genro wasn't sure just then. But he was positively certain that way, way back, as if far into another life somehow, a single tick sounded. And that was enough to get his curious brain working.

Who was this chick suddenly barging into his life and bringing up these unfamiliar fillings he had never thought he'd had? "Miaka…" The name rolled off his tongue as if he had said it a million times… Had he? Genro thought back to the small amount of woman he counter acted with lately. Was it one of the models he worked with for Sai's job? Or an old high school friend? Maybe one of the many girls Ryuen had hanging about their house? But still he couldn't figure out the simple name—making him quite frustrated. And why the Hell was she calling him that weird name! "I don' get woman," he sighed when William placed his second glass in front of him. "Their ways don't ever seem ta make sense."

The bartender smiled knowingly at him. "Yep. I've been with my wife twenty-two years now and still I don't understand her sometimes."

Genro grinned lazily and raised his glass. "To men," he said.

"To men," the Old Man responded with a glint of laughter in his eyes (A/N: Just to let everyone know, they are NOT sexist! Lol Genro's only doing it cuz he's upset and William is kinda going along for the heck of it lol) before going back to cleaning. The red head swung his head back and gulped down a large amount of the alcohol, giving an exasperated sigh when slamming the glass down again on the counter. The forty-year-old watched closely as his customer closed his burning eyes and then banged his head carelessly against the counter, moaning softly. "Taking this whole thing a bit roughly, aren't you?" he commented. "Things like this are always happening here. I've seen much worse—heck, you've seen much worse here in only these couple of months!"

Groaning, he slowly lifted his head up and looked straight into his elder's eyes. "Sorry, man. It's just that you wouldn't understand. "Well, you see, _you_ wouldn't get it 'cause technically _I_ don' either. So since I don't, you don't. Ya know?" He gave him a distracted smile.

William knitted his gray eyebrows together. "Genro, what you just said made _no _sense whatsoever."

He chuckled slightly. "Yeah, guess it didn't," he muttered. "But I really dunno myself. Only when…" he lightly touched his lips, remembering the explosion set off when they had locked with Miaka's, "she kissed me I… It was as if a long ago memory suddenly revealed itself." Weary ember eyes met the Old Man's. "That's not crazy, is it?"

William shook his head. "No, I don't think so at all," he answered solemnly. "Like when you find something—or someone—and right off the bat you know you were destined for them. Nope not crazy at all. In fact, that was how I felt the first time I met Katrina…" His eyes drifted to somewhere else as he traveled back to "the good old days."

Genro had to keep from frowning. 'Not exactly what I was going for, but hey, can't expect for everything ta be perfect.' Clearing his throat, he woke the bartender from his daze and stood up, grabbing his drink too. "Well, Will, I'm gonna go say hey to th' guys while I think this whole thing over some more," he said. "Don' tell that chick where I went, 'kay? She's all ready bugged me enough t'night."

The Old Man looked at him gravely. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Gen? We don't want to upset the pretty girl any further—not knowing how she'll react."

"Why th' hell would I care?" he growled. "It's her own damn problem, not mine. I don't even know this woman!" With that he stormed off towards the booths and the back where quiet jazz played. He was gladly welcomed, just like he knew he'd be, and asked to sit down—asked what the deal with Miaka was. 'Great,' he though, 'now I have ta put up with these guys.' "Nothing," the red head answered coolly. "She's just some random girl I don' know. Can we please not discuss this now though?" Sensing the heat, the boys dropped the subject and continued there drinking and laughter. But that night Genro only finished up that last second glass of liquor and had nothing more, just sat there, laughed with the drunks, but kept finding his mind wondering to that girl…

A few minutes later the women's bathroom door swung open and Miaka rushed out and started running straight for the high stools again as if she were in some race. "Tasuki! I understand now, Tasuki, why you're here. Suzaku sent you here like Tamahome—to help me." Not seeing him in his seat, the brunette looked around franticly. "Tasuki? Tasuki! Where'd you go!" Twirling around she locked eyes with William. "Where'd he go?" she cried, almost in tears.

"I—well—you see—" The bartender stumbled over his words, finding it hard to resist not to do as Genro requested by the sad girl's pretty face. "He just… I don't know," he finally sighed, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

By then she really was crying—bawling is more like it. "No!" she sobbed, clutching the bar counter with much strength. Her voice was heard all through the pub: the gentle jazz music quiet playing and all the drinkers and waiters became stalk quiet. All eyes were on the petit woman. "He's here, I know it. I've gotta problem and Taka—and cheating—that fight!—and the Suzaku—next Tasuki—and need help…" She then crumbled to the floor in the fetal position, racking with sobs. "He's—he's here! Gotta be here!"

William quickly ran around the counter and rushed to Miaka, plopping down to her side and made a tentive move to touch her face in comfort—stopping short thinking it just wasn't his place.

"Taka—he was mad. So mad…at me. I didn't—hiccup!—know why. But he cheated…I didn't know and—then the vase. It—almost hit. I—I was so scared…so scared…" She ran out of breath then and just laid there, whimpering and shivering uncontrollably.

Everyone at his table was staring out of Genro in disbelief; his face was anxious and a bit paler than usual. He found the strong urge to run to her aid once again. He wanted to wrap his arms about her slim waist and hold her close, whispering reassurance in her ear and ask what the matter was.

So he did just that.

Because he was in the middle of the circular booth, Genro didn't waste a second thought when he climbed on top of the table and launched off with one leap; he landed painfully on his side. Ignoring his drinking pals complaints and the fierce throbbing on his left, he hastily stood up. He practically sprinted the rest of his way to the torn Miaka, dropping to his knees when he reached her and cradled her head in his lap. Immediately she clutch onto his baggy pants, whimpering what he thought to be a happy whimper.

"Hey now, hey," he murmured while stroking her untidy, long, glossy hair and watching her form slowly stop it's horrid shaking. "I'm still here, don't worry. I was just off, urm, catchin' up with some ol' friends." She just shook her head and buried her face deeper into the cloth. Looking up, Genro saw that everyone was still gazing at them; he scowled dangerously at them all.

He gingerly picked up the young woman's shattered body and stoop up (A/N: I love Tasuki! He's so strong and such a lady's man, even if he won't admit it!). The red head caught William's eye. "We're going to he back booth," he growled, securely holding Miaka as if she were a fragile baby. "Could ya bring back two candles and some matches? An' please don' let anyone follow." Without an answer Genro turned around and started walking towards the very back where the lights had been cut off. It was pretty much pitch black.

Feeling his way, Genro spotted the faint outline of a regular dinning booth. He carefully slid into it, a disoriented Miaka still on his lap. She game a half hiccup, half cough, skimming one hand down his chest; the man couldn't help but grin, loving her touch.

They kept quiet all the while until the Old Man left (he'd dusted off the table first and then lit not only two but four candles, giving them a dim light to see each other in) and even then they were quiet for some time. Finally Miaka broke the silence.

"You scared me, you know," she whispered, words still a bit chocked and slurred, hiding the emotions Genro couldn't make out. "The second time tonight…I thought you left me…"

"What d'you mean, second time t'night?" He felt her body stiffen at his question but didn't regret it. Damn, he wanted to know exactly why he'd made a complete utter fool out of himself!

She didn't raise her head, only continued to rest her cheek against his chest and thought for a moment. "Suzaku sent you here," she finally responded. "I know you wont understand any of this and I'll really, _really_ regret this tomorrow. But…right now I could care less." Another pause, only shorter than last time. "You've been reincarnated 'cause Suzaku probably saw that I needed you like I did Tamahome—I mean Taka." He heard the change of time when she said his name and frowned. "I'm so happy that he sent you to me, Tasuki. You don't know how happy."

"Urm, there's another thing. Why d'you keep callin' me that? M' name is Genro—Hell, I've never ever heard the name 'Tasuki' before in my life!"

"You're name is Tasuki."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine. My name is Genro."

"What I thought."

"Same here."

"Huh, wait, what!"

Genro flashed her his infamous lopsided grin and Miaka laughed joyously. "But…you still haven' answered my question. Why were ya scared earlier t'day?"

She gave him a sad nervous smile, the candlelight catching a glint in her eyes. Just in these past couple hours Genro had learned to hate to see her cry. "I guess I have to say it. But, I have to admit…I'm afraid." Her voice cracked and Genro tightened his grip around her. "It has to do with my boyfriend, Taka…"

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I am SOOOOOO sorry it took so long to update! I know that I had promised one but I didn't think it would take /this/ long! So so so sorry! Please forgive me. I promise not to let this happen again.

This chapter is short...sorry... But I wanna leave the juicy stuff for later on lol.

For the last week I hadn't writen anything. I still feel like an idiot cuz of that lol. I guess it's just cuz I'm out of it :'( But I'm tryin' to perk back up!

I wrote the first half of this chapter like two or three weeks ago... and then the second half today. So if you can find a change of writing style or personallity, I'm sorry, and please notify me so I can go back and fix it!

Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! I seriously thought that the most I'd get was two! You guys are the best! Thank you SO SO SO SO SO SOOOOOO much! lol!

Okay, I'm gonna shut up now. I hope you enjoy this chapter... I find it a bit humorous lol.

Love you guys bunches!

_**Peasant Girl**_


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